Lamentable Gift
by camnz
Summary: Companion piece to Ragtag. Draco's obsession with Granger develops when things get rough. Very Dark.


Lamentable Gift

Draco slouched down in his seat in Potions; he hated potions, which wasn't saying much, he hated everything. He was there early for a change, having come from the Room of Requirements, down here to this frigid dungeon. He watched as Granger entered the classroom, followed by her two lackies. Her hair bouncing in its carefree wildness. She ignored him. She sat down in her seat, with her back to him and chided the red headed git for something.

He pursed his lips and stared into her back, urging her to turn around. But she refused-unseeing and unknowing. She turned to her companion, smiling. He hated that smile she directed at her nearest and dearest.

"Draco," greeted Blaise sitting down next to him.

"Fuck off, Blaise," he said without taking his attention off Granger. If he kept staring, she would turn around and acknowledge him. It hadn't happened yet, it was like he didn't exist to her.

Potter turned around and saw him-his scowl forming deep grooves in his forehead and around his mouth. Potter was always watching, but Potter didn't know what he did to their precious princess-he'd be dead by now if Potter knew. It was just a matter of time, Potter would whip out his wand and it would be all on. People here thought Potter was a pussycat, but they didn't know him. Potter was a killer, he just didn't know it yet. And given half the chance, he could have been Potter's first kill. It would be understandable considering what he did to her. He really did deserved it.

She still ignored him. He kept staring, but he had to look away. Potter was onto him and he wasn't in the place to go for an alright challenge.

Snape's beady eyes were on him, like every moment of the day, watching everything, reporting back to his master. HE HATED SNAPE. He hated all of them, even her. They all tied together into a wall of shit. Dumbledore, the great wizard, my arse. He couldn't see the most obvious thing in the world, he deserved to die out of sheer stupidity. It was like he stood on the train tracks wondering what that noise was. You just couldn't pity some people.

"We're starting, Draco. Cut this up." Blaise pushed something toward him and he ignored it. "Do something, Snape is watching."

"Fuck off, Blaise."

He wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. He didn't want to go back to the common room, his mental bitch aunt was nagging in the fireplace every second of the day-"Is it finished? What have you done to the cabinet?" she demanded every day. He knew he was related to her, but he really wanted her dead; he'd do it himself if he got the chance.

And his father was just...gone. The world turned to shit and there was complete silence from him, stuck out in Azkaban, useless to them. None of this was supposed to happen, it had all gone wrong. He was supposed to be on top of the world, this world, but it had twisted out of shape.

"You're going to fail," Blaise urged. Draco could hear the desperation in his voice. For a second he thought that Blaise knew, but he was talking about the pointless exercise.

Draco laughed. Like it fucking mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Snape's eyes snapped to him, but older man wouldn't say anything, he never did.

Draco looked around the room at the people there. He would be the harbinger of destruction to all of them, to all of this. He would end this all and there was a good chance some of these people would die in the process. Snape's beady eyes sought him out under his greasy hair. What he wouldn't give to hex him with something painful to singe his pasty arse. But he couldn't, he had to toe the line. It was the only way to save his mother. The only thing that drove him now. He had to save her and if the world burnt in the process, that was just too bad. He never chose this, this was all pushed on him. They'd done nothing to stop it when it was all too obvious. How could any of them expect that Voldemort wouldn't use him for his ends? A imbecile could figure that out.

If there was another way, he would have taken it. What he really wanted to do was steal her away, grab her and take her somewhere where they would never be found. But his mother would die if he did. His eyes returned to his quarry, staring into her back-yet she ignored him. He just wanted to her to acknowledge him, for her to remember something through the memory charm he'd cast on her. He wanted her to feel the taint, but she was oblivious.

He'd given up on any notion that he was a good person, he wasn't. Maybe he could think of himself as such if he wasn't raping Granger every other minute. He couldn't stop and she made it so easy. All he had to do was write her a note signed by some elf and she'd show up, alone at some ridiculously deserted spot of the castle. She had no sense of self preservation-he'd stumbled onto this quite by chance, finding her wandering alone around the deserted halls. She'd been her defiant usual self and he'd finally let it break him.

She was so ridiculously good, it never even occurred to her that someone could deceive her. He'd seen her look of surprise a dozen times now.

He couldn't stop. It was the only thing that made it all go away, let him feel a moment of peace. But he just wanted her to acknowledge him. There was no peace anywhere, nowhere in the castle, because he could always see its destruction. There was certainly no peace in the common room. The bitch was always there, or the ever watching eyes of his house mates. Their concerned eyes always watching. He wanted to hurt them for staring all the time, but he couldn't. He wasn't allowed to rock the boat now and it would always get back to the psycho fuck, Voldemort.

Katie Bell was about to be released from the hospital, he'd heard. He stabbed his quill into the papers of his notebook, tearing a few of the pages. It didn't matter. It would all be gone soon. If no one else, he would die-of that he was absolutely certain. As long as he could save his mother, whatever he had to do, he would. He'd had to force himself to not think of Katie or anyone else would would eventually get hurt, and there was only one distraction that worked.

He'd tried the soft way, using love potions and Imperio, but it felt wrong. It wasn't her he saw when he looked in her eyes, just a caricature. He needed her to see him-even if it meant screaming, fighting and curses. He needed her. She didn't scream though, unless she was in a foul mood to begin with. He was usually too surprised to do anything. He'd sink into her body and it would all go away. It was the only thing that did. For an hour, he would be with her, fuck her. And it got harder and harder each time to cast the charm that would wipe her memory, because he wanted her to know. He wanted her to think about him, to remember. But he couldn't. Letting Granger know what he did to her, even what she meant to him, was definitely rocking the boat. All hell could break loose if it was known the Gryffindor Princess was being defiled. Dumbledore would probably not bother holding Potter back. It would be a quick death and he almost wished for it at times. It would definitely take it all away, but then his mother would suffer.

The bell rang. The class had just started as far as he was concerned. He didn't move. Granger packed up her things and Potter waited for her, keeping an eye on things. Draco closed his eyes and ground his teeth. If you only knew, he thought inside his head at the scowly boy that was Dumbledore's shining glory.

"You need to work on that essay tonight, Harry. Have you got enough parchment?" she said to Potter as she passed. She didn't even look his way and he could smell her as the air currents washed over him, he itched to grab her hair, but he kept his hands clasped to the desk in front of him. He only moved when Snape made his approach, strode out of the room. He had no interest in hearing the lap dog's utterings.

The halls were deserted when he strode down. The vanishing cabinet was ready, he knew. Time was up. He'd drawn it out as long as he could, but there was nothing more he could do. They would come through tonight. It would all end tonight. He walked along half expecting someone to come for him. Potter or Dumbledore. Moody or even that oaf Hagrid. Someone should come and drop him, he'd been expecting it, but no one came. It'd taken him a while to realise that no one was coming. Before that he'd been watching over his back every second of every day.

He went to one of the more quiet parts high in the castle. He liked sitting there where he could watch others walking across the courtyard down below, unseen and unnoticed. It kept the questions away, everyone had questions.

His heart speed up when he saw Granger walk across the courtyard. He felt the familiar pull, the uneasy feeling that made him want to rip his own skin off. He couldn't breath properly, it all pressed in on him. She made it all go away, or a while.

It had all snuck up on him. At some point his consideration of her had turned into something else. He used to have a wank thinking of her prim and proper ways, of seducing her or just taking her. At some point he'd gingerly stepped over the line. He remembered it, his heart had beat wildly-like it never had before. It had been the most exciting thing he'd ever done. He even known at the time it would be something he shouldn't do, but he'd done it. He was stronger than her and she was so easy to disarm.

His fingers itched to touch her, his body hummed with ever present vibration of pure tension. He needed her again, but he knew he may never get the chance. He might die and he might have touched her for the last time and not been aware of it. His heart twisted painfully.

He knew if things had been wildly different, if none of this had happened and if he'd behaved right, he might have been able to seduce her properly-be in a position where she willingly placed herself beneath him. He knew that could happen-if things had been different. He could have done it right, could have wooed her, tempted her. He refused to believe that it couldn't have worked out that way, if things had been different. He let those thoughts take him away sometime, if the world had taken a different course and Voldemort had never returned.

She was out of sight now and he felt his skin crawl. He wanted to see her, know what she was doing. He wanted to know everything she said, but that would rock the boat. He wasn't allowed to rock the boat.

Tonight he would end the world, bring everything he saw crashing down. He'd considered sending her somewhere where she was safe, but then if he died, he wanted her to join him. He wouldn't do it; he left it up to the fates to decide.

He watched Dumbledore crossing the courtyard, his robes flowing behind him. Draco tightened his grip on his wand. It was his task to kill Dumbledore. One he knew he wasn't up to. Dumbledore was stupid, obviously-but he was skilled. The only chance he had was if he took Dumbledore by surprise.

He let his head drop down. It would end tonight. The never ending worry and pressure would end tonight. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to not have this hanging over him. He would do his best and his mother would be safe. It was what he needed to focus on now. Nothing else mattered.

He wasn't ready for his life to be over. It was the thought he'd had for so many months now, while he search and twisted for a way out. There was no other way, he had to be brave.

It just sat so badly with him, bravery. He wasn't brave. He wasn't Potter who rushed into things not knowing what he was doing, just winging his way through things. In a way, they were both used in this whole thing-Potter being Dumbledore's champion, completely unaware that he was being used. Potter didn't see that everyone was using them-Voldemort, Snape, Dumbledore, his father. Draco'd lost faith in everyone he used to believe in. Except her.

He found himself in the girl's bathroom with the ghost. There was a good chance he'd be one soon. Maybe he'd get to spend an eternity in a bathroom. He was scared. He'd been scared so long he'd forgotten the ever present fear and dread. Now it was back, gripping his insides. He needed her now, it was all coming down on him. He gripped his wand until his knuckles whitened. Just a few short hours left. They told him he was a saviour, a force to rule the undeserving. She would see him as a traitor and she had a point. He was bringing destruction to his classmates, to his life, to his friends, to her. It hurt to breath, he couldn't get enough air. It felt like the very air was pressing down on him, pressing on his head and lungs.

He was too young to die, he didn't want to die. He wanted a life with her, away from all the shit. Somewhere no one would ever find them. Where she would learn to love him. He knew she could. If things had been different.

But it was too late for him now. He splashed some water on his face, tried to get a grip on himself. He couldn't fall apart now, he was so close. He tried to focus, put things slipped out of his grasp. He shook his head, pushed the panic away from him.

"Malfoy?"

It felt like his heart seized completely when as he looked up and and saw her standing behind him through the mirror. She'd come. The fates had delivered her to him, like a gift to make up for the horror to come. He could be with her one more time. She was here and she would remember.


End file.
